


Gardens

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: AU - Catherine/Madison Li in the background, AU - Madison raises the Lone Wanderer, Domestic Bliss, F/F, Science Moms, and Madison Li raises their daughter with Janice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madison and Janice want to create a better world for their daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gardens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stungred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stungred/gifts).



“Don’t OD on retinoooo-ates, they can make you ill!” Janice sings, taking a stub of orange crayon and poking it at her daughter’s nose. Janice’s mind snaps to color, imagery-- crunchy bits of brilliance. Carrots get their color from being rich in beta-carotene. Much like sweet potato. Almost impossible to actually overdose through gorging, but more fun than coloring in vitamin pills or chunks of liver. Scattered thoughts, bits and pieces of actual science and history placed mosaic-fashion over the grout of her own imagination. She thinks Agent Orange. Named for the barrels, not the substance-- so strange to think that before the war, they had the luxury of destroying so much. Defoliation as a means of warfare. Destroying the future to win today.

Jennifer laughs at the silly jingle, as expected. Jennifer’s all beloved growth and reclamation, bright-eyed child growing from the compost of the old world. Not enough history, yet, to mourn mistakes beyond centuries old. Little bud, little seed, apple of their eyes-- Madison and Janice can provide the soil, the trellis and foundation, but she will have to grow as best she can.

“Impressive adaptation of the nursery rhyme,” Madison says dryly, arms crossed in the doorway, watching her daughter-- Catherine’s daughter, her daughter-- play and sing. Catherine loved singing, dancing, played old records and danced after long nights spent in the lab, twining lines of poetry through her dry reports and tucking old research journals into her tattered copy of Neruda.

Janice asked Catherine’s forgiveness, once, in a dream. Woke up with roses sweet and heavy in her mouth, throat thick with perfume. Likes to think it was her blessing.

Janice smiles, eyes bright and sparkling under the harsh overhead lights. “Used to sing ‘em to my sisters, when I was in school. Taught them, helped me remember my lessons. I also have a jingle on the proper antibiotics to use for various types of infection, if you are interested.”

“Perhaps later.”

“Are you sure? I have a lovely verse on single-dose azithromycin for chlamydia…”

Jennifer winces, making a face and pulling her paper away from Janice. “You two are weird when you flirt. I’m going to finish my homework at the Galley.”

“We’re not flirting, we’re educating!” Janice calls, to which Jennifer’s only response is a loud raspberry and a slamming door.

Madison sighs, sitting in the just-vacated seat. Janice promptly scoots closer, knee brushing Madison’s and trailing her finger across the back of her neck, the thin line of skin above the collar of her coat. Leans forward to press dry lips to the curve of Madison’s ear, murmuring, “And how was the most recent council meeting?”

“Frustrating.” Madison snorts, shaking her head, but permits Janice to continue stroking her, like soothing a lashing cat. “Harkness is more than capable of handling standard security protocols without a weekly check-in, and if I have any significant updates on agricultural yields or possible risks to the civilian members of our city, I would most certainly not be waiting until the official meeting to inform everyone.”

“It keeps everyone at ease, at least,” Janice says, not unsympathetically. Kisses Madison’s temple, kneading her thumb into a knot of tension high on the shoulder. No garden of their own-- yet-- but she still treasures this small work of her hands. “Would you like a backrub?”

“Yes, please.” Madison closes her eyes, wincing at the scrape of Janice’s chair on the metal floor. But Madison relaxes at Janice’s soft humming, gentle melody softening the after-screech of metal on metal. Not one of the overplayed tunes from Galaxy News Radio, thank all that’s holy-- Janice knows full well it’s not Madison’s favorite. Sweet and steady as an old lullaby, or maybe one of the gentler folk songs.

Janice pushes with her thumbs, hard on the knots-- small circular motions, fingers resting light on Madison’s shoulders. A soft grunt, and Madison shakes her head.

“If your joints are bothering you, it’s fine to use your knuckles.”

“Thanks, love,” Janice says, switching positions. Less finesse, but at least Janice can go harder without risking ache to her thumbs.

“And how was your day?” Madison asks, belatedly remembering the basic niceties of conversation.

Janice chuckles, warm and sweet like fresh bread. “Less stressful than yours. Jennifer’s enjoying her calculus; treats the textbook like it’s a book of puzzles. Good ones.”

“Easy when her favorite teacher makes learning into a game.”

“I had good teachers. Best way to pass on their legacy, right?” Janice shifts, groaning as Madison’s muscle rolls with pop like cracking nuts. Madison sighs long and heavy. “Ooh, felt that one. And you’re good too. Gave her a solid base.”

“Not enough time with her.”

Janice leans forward, kisses the back of her neck without hesitation. “You have other obligations.” Madison’s traded one nursery for another when Jennifer was still young, trading bedtime stories and songs for soil analysis and growth monitoring. Janice’s breath stirs the loose hairs coming from Madison’s bun as she murmurs, “And creche-style classrooms are more common in other areas, so you know.”

Madison snorts, twisting to raise a wry brow at Janice. “I trained in the Commonwealth too.” Gives a mincing smile, softened by a glitter of humor as she repeats back, “So you know.”

Chuckling, Janice starts pulling the pins from Madison’s hair. Places them one by one on the table, ticking in place as she undoes Madison’s bun. Begins a light scalp massage, fingers combing through the strands.

“All I mean is that you don’t have to take on every single responsibility. Delegate.” Janice shakes out her hand, makes a note to purchase more dry shampoo. Water rations aren’t as strict in Rivet City as they are elsewhere, but as a council member Madison both has to be an example and manage a certain level of presentation. The pale powder can look unfortunately like dandruff if not properly brushed out, but Janice enjoys taking care of Madison. “Even if they can’t do the job as well as you, it frees you up for more important things.” Laces a little teasing in her tone.

Madison snorts, though Janice can hear the smile tucked in her back teeth. “Like giving up these scintillating council meetings to spend more time with my wife and daughter?”

“That too.” They both know it’s a lie, no more truthful just because it’s sweet and playful. Madison will spend more time in the lab, writing more reports and placing requisitions for more items that they can only hope can still be found or produced this far south. Paying scav teams is more risky, but less financially ruinous than trying to transport supplies all the way from the north, especially for some of the more esoteric apparatus. “Though Angela was asking if they could have a sleep-over. If Gary doesn’t mind the girls giggling away, I was hoping we could make that a date night.” Janice lets it rest there, bright and hopeful.

Madison tilts her head, pretending to consider. “Hm. Tempting.”

“We could get that bottle of wine you like, play some old records…”

“I thought we were saving that bottle for our anniversary,” Madison says. Not complaining, but contemplating. Dark eyes glancing upward, a crinkle at the corners. Face pale-- so much time spent indoors now, doing all the ‘important’ work that leaves her sun-starved while the lesser scientists toil away with the planters on the flight deck. Janice fears she’ll wither without regular attention, like some uprooted plant starved of vital nutrients. Makes it even more important to cozy up on these gentle evenings, to plan date nights and romance and all the things that nourish the spirit.

“I double-checked the calendar. The Commonwealth delegation is coming on that day, and if it’s anything like last time…”

“Oh no, you’re right.” Madison sighs, slumping forward with her head in her palm. “Might be best to move that up early. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Janice chides. “Time with you is precious, regardless of the day. Some wine, some music-- I could make those mirelurk cakes you like, do those baked apple blossoms…”

“Oh no. If Jennifer hears you’re making those, she’ll never leave.”

“We can store them in the freezer, bake them when she comes back.” Lays a flower-soft kiss on Madison’s neck, like a dream of Old World vineyards soaked in summer promise. Sweeter, more real than all the glossy coffee table book pictures that Janice lingers over like an act of foreplay, a whetting of the appetite for all they might rebuild. ‘Coffee table book,’ another bizarre luxury from before the war. A creative form of supreme indulgence. At least better than the destructive indulgences, like uprooting dandelion and garlic mustard. Still so strange to think ‘they,’ those strange and distant people from before the war, would wilfully discard their edible herbs and greens.

Madison melts, relents. Sighs. “You do know how to persuade me.”

Janice smiles, tucking away this small victory. Like a seed, to be well-watered with love and affection. Yet to see what will sprout-- and their first priority with the hydroponics are vegetables, then fruit. But fruit, oh-- she loves apples, but dreams of oranges, strawberries, a thousand sweetnesses to nourish the body. Herbs for the soul, if she can get the seeds and cuttings-- dreams of mint, rosemary, basil, sage, a green and growing tangle sprawling beyond the confines of the little pots she would first use. And flowers-- the supreme indulgence, a splash of color, botanical fancy. Not even something edible like dandelion or used for flavor like roses and violets, but orchids, crocuses, lilies. Daisies, perhaps; their tender greens can be used in salads, but the flowers would leave the fingers sap-sweet and sticky as they’re woven into crowns. Revive the lost art of flower-weaving. Flowers for the heart.

She dreams to see what their garden will grow.

 


End file.
